


Swahns

by zsomeone



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-01
Updated: 2013-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-17 00:42:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3508724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zsomeone/pseuds/zsomeone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pickles and Seth as kids.  A family vacation, and why Pickles likes swans so damn much.<br/>I’ve got a Rehabklok screencap by late_totheparty to illustrate time frame and location.<br/>Warning: Seth being Seth, underage drinking</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swahns

[](http://s1117.photobucket.com/user/late_totheparty/media/CLDK/rehabklok/rehabcaps_0030_Layer17.jpg.html)

 

They’d arrived at the lake cabin late in the afternoon, and after the mandatory helping unload the car, Pickles had managed to wrap a couple beers in his shirt and slip away. The small dock was just out of sight from the cabin, and a late mist gave him some illusion of privacy. During the afternoon it would usually be bright and clear, but the mornings and evenings tended to be shrouded.

He hated these vacations, And knowing that Seth did too was little consolation. Pickles opened a beer and took a long drink. He’d get in trouble if they caught him, but he’d get in trouble even if they didn’t so what was the point in even trying anymore? They’d been more critical than ever in the months since the garage had burned, and the only lesson Pickles had learned was to not even try to stand up to Seth anymore. He couldn’t win, and somehow it always just made things worse.

Finishing that beer and opening the second, Pickles kept drinking. He’d heard other kids tell stories about taking a couple sips and feeling drunk, but it never seemed to work that way for him. A couple sips? It took a couple full beers for him to feel the effects.  
He hated Seth, he hated his red hair that everyone made fun of, he hated that nobody ever took his side in anything. Drinking helped some, eased the sharp edges a bit.

Now working on his last beer (he had to drink them quickly), Pickles stared across the water. Everything was quiet and still, peaceful, but it wouldn’t last. By tomorrow there would be more people around doing things.  
Maybe he would be able to sneak off and swim a little this year? Probably not, they always made Seth watch him. Pickles had learned very young not to trust Seth in the water, being held under until he panicked and then teased for crying...

He probably wouldn’t get the chance to drink again here, not enough to make any difference anyway. There would be too many people around that might notice a little kid with a beer and tell his parents. But at least he had it tonight, it would help.  
Dinner would be something half charred on the grill, because his dad was a big fan of cookouts here, even though he was very bad at it. Often the hot dogs would be burned on one end and barely warm on the other. They all ate it anyway though, even Seth didn’t complain. 

Pickles knew he had to go back soon, he’d stayed away as long as he dared. He put his shirt back on and tossed his empty bottles under a nearby bush. If he could slip back in quietly they might never even notice he’d been gone.  
It was only Thursday, they’d come a day early, which to Pickles only mean he had one extra day to endure before they went home Sunday evening. At least it would still be quiet in the morning, before everybody else started showing up.

*****

They were gone when he woke up. They’d started doing that recently, leaving him in Seth’s care and running off to do their own thing for a while. But on the first day, when there was nobody else really around yet to keep Seth from getting too far out of line?  
With a small sigh, Pickle snuck in to the kitchenette. Seth was watching tv, that was good. If he was into the show he’d just ignore him. Not wanting to push his luck with a real breakfast, Pickles found some granola bars and slipped quietly out the door.

He went back to the dock, sitting on the boards that were still cool and swinging his legs above the water. He hadn’t seen the birds the night before, they must have been somewhere on shore, but they were swimming around today. Mostly ducks as usual, but it was the new birds that grabbed his attention. Swans, two of them and some little ones, he’d never seen them here before in all the years they’d visited. They were huge and white, gliding around and occasionally ducking their heads to grab at things in the water.

Wishing he’d brought bread, Pickles tried tossing bits of granola to lure them closer but it just sank. They were slowly working their way in his general direction though, so he waited and watched.  
Pickles glanced in the direction of the cabin, still no Seth. He could turn up at any time though, and Pickles realized he was still sitting on the edge of the dock. Not a safe place to be. Getting up, he moved to a spot on the bank and sat back down to keep watching the now much closer swan family.

The little ones were kind of ugly, looking more like ragged geese than real swans. He knew that fairy tale though, so he knew they were just babies. Pickles might be an ugly duckling, but his family wasn’t swans and he really wasn’t either, he wasn’t going to one day outgrow his red hair and suddenly be awesome.  
They were very close now, he hadn’t realized just how large they were. One walked up on the bank, not far from where Pickles sat and seemed to be looking at him.

Pickles grinned, and was about to greet it when a pebble flew bast him and bounced off its back.  
Turning, he saw Seth with a handful of pebbles and an evil grin. The swan ruffled its feathers but didn’t move.  
“No, Seth!” Pickles jumped to his feet. “Don’t hert tha swahns!”  
With barely a look in his direction, Seth shoved him hard and Pickles went sprawling on his back on the bank. He didn’t get up, he knew better than to try again. “Run, swahns!”  
Seth just laughed and threw another pebble, he had really good aim.

The swans in the water swam around nervously, and a little one opened its beak in a soundless squawk when a pebble hit it. Seth moved closer, between Pickles and the swan, aiming for more. Moving targets that reacted were more fun than the one just standing there.  
The birds were confused, people throwing things usually meant food, so they weren’t running away.  
Seth seemed to enjoy hitting the little ones best, well of course he did.

Suddenly the big swan on the bank raised its wings and charged, neck extended. It grabbed a beakful of Seth’s shirt and beat at him with its huge wings. Seth actually _screamed_ which Pickles thought was pretty awesome, and flailed at the bird.  
Finally it let go and Seth stumbled back, then clutching his arm, turned and ran all the way back up the hill.  
Pickles stayed still, not sure what would happen if he moved. But he’d just seen Seth get his ass kicked by a bird, that made this whole vacation worth it!

The swan had regained its composure, and strolled back to the water’s edge. It turned its head a bit and winked at Pickles, or at least he thought it did. He could only see one eye so maybe it just blinked, but he wanted to think it winked at him. “Heh, swahan, yer alreet,” he told it softly.  
It waded back into the water and the whole family headed off to a different part of the lake. Pickles watched them go, he’d try to always bring them bread from now on. They earned it.

*****

Seth’s arm was broken, not badly but enough to need a cast, so he was mad because he couldn’t go in the water. And their parents were mad because they couldn’t figure out a way to blame this on Pickles. After losing half a day on a hospital visit they’d returned to the cabin and Seth had done nothing but sulk in front of the tv ever since.  
That was fine with Pickles, who now had the freedom to swim or just hang out on the dock watching his new bird friends without having to watch his back the whole time.  
It was the best vacation he'd ever had.


End file.
